[center][img]https://fontmeme.com/permalink/190120/b458a81531631a6916fa9413063c5f80.png[/img][/center][right][sub]Interacting with: [@Achronum][/sub][/right]
[i][color=f0d705]I am my Master's servant and I will endeavour to use my critical thinking skills to his advantage.
I am my Master's servant and I will endeavour to use my critical thinking skills to his advantage.
I am my Master's servant and I will endeavour to use my critical thinking skills to his advantage.[/color][/i]

A knock at the door pulled Aaron from his focus, and no sooner did he look up than did Varis rise and take his lines away, looking over them. 

[color=f7976a]“Better than last night. Slow down on the upstrokes on the loops. I can see how thin the ink is.”[/color]

There was no time to respond before Varis had locked the lines away and fled the study, leaving Aaron to simply wonder why Varis cared so much about his handwriting as he moved to answer the door. Opening it, he found the same delivery woman as before, holding the same packages and the same clipboard. Aaron signed quickly, not bothering with small talk tonight, and quickly brought the delivery to the kitchen. The smell of danishes was already apparent, and soon the scent of coffee joined it as Aaron got the machine running. He did it all more or less on autopilot, a little out of focus from his lines. The words still ran through his head, and his eyes were a little glazed over; Who knew an hour of writing the same thing over and over would make him so… out of it?

Aaron ate quickly, doing everything with his left hand as he stretched out his right. There was some residual stiffness in his hand and wrist, presumably from his line-writing last night, and it was all the more apparent now after another session. A wholly unexpected little detail, but apparently writing non-stop for an hour at a time each night was going to take some getting used to in more ways than one; he hadn’t considered it before, but he couldn’t really remember the last time he’d had to write by hand for so long. He was sure [i]what[/i] he was writing was no help either, his hand going through the same exact motions over and over and over again. 

Soon enough breakfast was done with, Aaron making quick work of the dishes and leaving the kitchen as pristine as he’d found it. He was a little surprised Varis hadn’t called him for feeding, but he supposed the Count [i]had[/i] had an unusual start, and figured that he would be called when he was needed. Satisfied with that reasoning, Aaron returned to his room to change into a proper shirt while he had the chance; if Varis wanted to feed, he could always just take down his collar. After all, Aaron remembered with a slight turn of the stomach, it wasn’t as if Varis had a problem with disrobing. 

He felt immediately better once he had his dress shirt on, the high collar and the done-up buttons bringing him some measure of comfort. His mind cleared as he deftly tied his tie, practiced hands making quick and neat work of it. Finally he slipped into his suit jacket, put on his watch, and actually remembered to fasten his medical alert bracelet around his ankle before giving himself a final once-over in the mirror, feeling much more comfortable now that he looked appropriate for public view. 

He had actually prepared his bag before he arrived at the Academy, a few notebooks, writing utensils and his laptop already neatly inside, so there was little to do except grab it before he was ready for the night. But he paused as he double-checked the contents, pulling out the box with the tuning fork from where he’d tucked it away earlier and considering it. Shelving the weirdness of the thing aside for the time being, he was sure he wouldn’t need it during the school night, but for whatever reason, he wasn’t entirely comfortable just leaving it in his room, remembering how Varis had been going through his cabinets and had apparently rifled through his drawers for his medical file. Aaron bounced the box in his hand as he considered what to do with it, looking around the room before his eyes fell on his closet. Sure, no door made it a little less secure, but he supposed a door probably wouldn’t have made much of a difference anyway.

He decided to stash the box and note away inside his empty luggage, slipping them into a zip pouch and leaving the suitcase on the upper shelf of his closet. He doubted Varis would go looking through an empty suitcase; even if he did, Aaron wasn’t sure the tuning fork was even worth hiding. He got some measure of comfort from it, though, and finally returned to the kitchen. A glance at his watch showed 8:40; with nothing better to do than wait for Varis, Aaron pulled out his phone, leaning against the counter. 

Somehow he’d missed the unread message in his notifications, and when he opened it he found it was Lilie, asking him at some unreasonable hour whether he was awake. He’d spoken to her since then, so he felt no need to respond, but he couldn’t help but be a little amused. She really [i]was[/i] quite the day jay, though of course he couldn’t blame her. 

Expecting to get called for feeding any minute, Aaron couldn’t get into anything as he waited, opting instead to check the scores of a couple of races from the nights prior. He flipped between his browser app and his notes, jotting down scores and figures and the occasional equation, and before he knew it Varis was calling him, apparently ready to leave. 

The Count’s words, however, gave Aaron pause. A chance to redeem himself? Aaron had honestly been surprised that the Count had spoken to him so civilly this evening, after what he’d done the night before, and he certainly hadn’t expected to be given a chance to win back some modicum of favour so quickly. Varis had his rapt attention, Aaron ready to enthusiastically jump into the task, until he heard the details. 

So, he was meant to spy on Salem? Aaron would be a liar if he said the idea sat well with him, remembering how Salem had deflated at the news of the investigation, and how even after they’d had their disagreements, they’d seem to have come to some kind of friendly understanding. The poor man had momentarily lost everything, and was clearly lonely; even with the suspicion regarding the Red Hand, Aaron held no malice for Salem. In fact, he doubted he had any affiliation at all. And now, what, Aaron was meant to kick him while he was down, pretend to be his friend, all the while betraying him?

Varis asked him if he understood, and Aaron mentally slapped himself. What was he thinking? He’d known Salem all of what, eighteen hours? What did he know about him? He’d been spewing practically revolutionary ideas to the Queen’s face, throwing accusations at Lady Sinnenodel (true or not - and who could tell - it was reckless all the same), not to mention how brazenly he’d gone toe to toe with Count Varis himself. For all Aaron knew, Salem fit the rebel bill perfectly; in any case, the man was a mage - Lucan’s mage, yes, but a mage nonetheless - whom Aaron didn’t know, who might be affiliated with rebels, and who his master thought was enough of a threat to warrant closer inspection. Most importantly, though, Aaron was being offered a possibly rare chance to redeem himself for his mistakes, curry some favour with the master he’d be serving for the rest of his life. What kind of an attendant would he be to let sympathy for a stranger get in the way of performing his duty? 

[color=f0d705]“Understood, Master,”[/color] Aaron replied, swallowing his lingering discomfort and following Varis out the door.